Emma Agonistes

This story is my contribution to the:

2024 Literotica Pandemonium Challenge

-- -- --

An

Angels & Demons

story

For those of you who care about the loosely coupled literary universe that

Djmac1031

and I have created, this tale is set after

The Tragedy of Lailah

(by me) and before

Between Angels And Demons

(by him).

While being familiar with at least one or two of our Angels & Demons stories will obviously enable readers to quickly recall established characters, and immediately parse references to prior events, I have tried to make this essentially a stand-alone work. Feedback on how successful I have been in meeting this objective would be warmly welcomed.

Of course, if this story leads you to our companion ones, Djmac1031 and I would be delighted.

-- -- --

Most everyone was away. It was kinda irritating.

Lily had hugged me goodbye; she gave the best hugs. But concern was in her freckled face. "You sure you are gonna be OK, Em. I don't

have

to go."

"Yeah you do, you stupid towhead. Go play happy family, you deserve it."

"Thank you!" Lily smiled. "Let me give you one more hug, you gorgeous demon."

Then, still looking worried, my angelic girlfriend took wing. Albeit somewhat reluctantly, blowing a final kiss from several feet above me, before spinning and rapidly flying off.

She was going to visit her newly-revealed uncle, the Archangel Oúriēl. I didn't begrudge her family time, after learning the full horror of what that scum, Asmodeus, had done to both my partner and her parents.

As for the rest of the motley crew that had coalesced around Emma's Escorts since the unpleasant episode with Nathan Raine? Well they all seemingly had things to occupy them.

Elena, now half-human half-celestial, was already at a residential course, targeted at those who hoped to become Avenging Angels. It was run by Clarence, Oúriēl's

éminence grise

. Elena's still fully human boyfriend, Bobby, had been given the considerable honor of attending as an observer; she said he was 'angel-curious,' I knew the feeling.

My assumption was that our young Cuban friend would be learning advanced torture techniques, then my grasp of angelic protocol was occasionally somewhat hazy. Maybe, given the tutor, it was something else, like giving people a strong talking to. Or the curative properties of tea.

Whitney? With her seraph Dad busy bonding with my girlfriend, it seemed she was enjoying some Mommy and Daughter time with his diabolic paramor, Lucy Morningstar. Though, knowing Her Satanic Majesty quite well by now, some extracurricular activities would no doubt be included. Most likely involving incineration, or disembowelment, of some sort. My kind of rest and relaxation!

Andy -- our human business partner and first Earthly friend -- was off viewing properties in another city. He had big plans about turning Emma's Escorts into a national franchise. Humans could get the strangest of ideas sometimes.

Tommy, Bobby's erstwhile partner in the security and protection business, was thankfully around. I liked Tommy, and the feeling was normally mutual. At least, that is, when Lucy wasn't in one of her 'slumming it with mortal guys' phases; she'd been known to keep him occupied for days during those.

The ex-Marine did his best to save me from terminal sexual frustration. And his best was, admittedly, pretty fucking good, particularly for a mere mortal. But I missed Lily's touch, and her serene presence even more. A fine kind of she-demon me, pining for a cherub.

I suppose it didn't help that, while my life partner had reconnected with the vestiges of

her

family,

my

only relative -- my mother, Naamah -- was languishing in solitary confinement. While Lucy knew full-well that it was Asmodeus's machinations that had put her second in command in jail -- much too ably abetted by my own idiocy, I sadly reflected -- there was also unfortunately the matter of a signed confession, and of Demonic Law. Even Lucy needed to at least pretend that its strictures applied to her as well as the 'little people.'

It had always been just me and Mom. No siblings. No aunts or uncles. No cousins. She generally mentioned parthenogenesis when I questioned her about my parentage, I assumed that was just a diversion from a situation that she would rather not discuss. Mom probably had her reasons. Male demons could be real assholes.

Speaking of assholes, I knew that a time was coming when Asmodeus would pay for his treachery, and my mother would be both free and exonerated. But I missed Mom sorely at times. Doubly so when Lily was also absent.

The coming weekend, even Tommy was abandoning me. It was because of some band he had seen play at a bar. Apparently they needed a replacement drummer for a week or so, while theirs got over a damaged wrist; guys, right? Tommy had shrugged at me in an infuriating 'what are you gonna do?' manner.

I did consider practicing a little of my own incineration and disembowelment on him, though maybe in the other order. Then I meekly returned his shrug. What had got into me? I felt like I was becoming -- what was the word? -- oh yeah, nice.

'Fuck that shit!'

I was bored. I was lonely. What I really needed was a good fuck to lift my mood. Demons don't get depressed, but my current mental state presented a pretty good facsimile of it. On top of which, I seemed to be losing my devilish edge. Going soft maybe. It was inevitable, I supposed, hanging out with the crowd that I did.

'Enough of feeling sorry for yourself, Emma! Do something about it!'

I determined that I was going to reconnect with my demon heritage. To get back to my prior self. With these thoughts fresh in my mind, I took flight.

Well actually, it was only on the third attempt that I finally got airborne. I'd not used my wings much when I'd first had them -- they are kinda superfluous to a Pleasure Demon, who spends a lot of time on her back; or on all fours; or strung up in chains. Then I had parted company with my additional, flight-related limbs for some time, courtesy of an adverse legal finding, and a judicial sword.

Lucy had made me whole again recently, but I hadn't yet got reaccustomed to how they worked, particularly given that my body was now somewhat smaller than when I last had such appendages. And, for a long time before that, Lily had been the aviator of the team -- much as having to rely upon her carrying me had sometimes been a source of frustration.

But finally I was aloft, and heading... heading where? Straight for trouble was the best answer I could offer myself.

-- -- --

Trouble found me rather quicker than I had anticipated. Not far out from Andy's house, the morning sky suddenly darkened, and a wind began to swirl. The temperature dropped, and I shivered, despite the physical exertion of flying. The weather system to blame was right in front of me. It had manifested in merely minutes, from clear blue skies, now having an angry look. Its considerable, and threatening, angular momentum was almost palpable.

What would Lily do? Fly over it? I looked at the towering thunderclouds, and that seemed like a bad idea. Flee in the opposite direction? The pace at which the tempest was approaching meant that I would lose that race. Try to circumnavigate the turbulent squall? This seemed like my best option. But, even in the brief time I had been cogitating, the storm was nearly upon me.

Rather panicked, I determined that terra firma was maybe the best refuge. As I was trying to pick out a landing place, my world was filled with a bright, blinding light, searing in its intensity, and my consciousness decided that it had had quite enough of things, taking a brief vacation until the environmental situation improved...

It was the noise I heard first, a rhythmical thump, thump, thump. Realizing it was nothing more than my wings, operating on some sort of autonomic basis, I opened my eyes. Astonishingly, I was still mid-air. I had been anticipating a crash landing, and broken bones, at the very least. The heat of what I assumed had been a bolt of lightning, would have been no big deal for a being acclimated to hellfire, but I was surprised that my human clothes had also somehow survived the conflagration.

I had questions, multiple questions. But something told me that it would be much more appealing to focus on flying, so that's just what I did. Almost nonchalantly, I noticed that my surroundings were very different. The headquarters of Emma's Escorts was located in the suburbs of a mid-sized town. Admittedly, it got kinda rural quite quickly as you drove away from the municipality, but, below me now, stretched a verdant broadleaf forest, punctuated by the occasional gleaming river, or grass-covered clearing. However, it was remarkable for its conspicuous lack of human habitations, or other signs of civilization, like roads. Had I been blown to Canada by the storm?

But it was fine. It was fun to fly and I felt I had no cares in the world. I don't recall even thinking about my absent girlfriend. This should have served as some kind of warning, but I was bathed in a sense of tranquil well-being. The idea of retracing my flight path to home didn't occur to me.

I may have even started to hum to myself. The theme to Ghostbusters, if I recall right. All was good in my world.

-- -- --

Ten minutes after I had exited the cloud, a large raven passed me. Passed me easily, as if its motor was merely ticking over. It had a look of disdain in its black eyes. The bird's 'cronk' sounded disparaging of my clumsy efforts at aviation as well.

"I guess you were born doing this," I puffed rather peevishly, as much to myself as to it.

I was shocked when a gravelly voice replied, "Same as any self-respecting demon. Even a third class one ought to be able to fly better than that!"

"Third class!" I bristled. "I'll show you third class."

I flicked a fireball at the impudent corvid. It evaded the flaming bolt with some ease. But the effort of expelling the orb of energy further destabilized my already erratic trajectory, and I found myself plunging Earthwards at some velocity. Shit! Where was Lily when I needed her?

Dim memories of childhood flying lessons somehow surfaced in my consciousness, and I was just about able to slow my fall before disaster struck. That is if a very bruised ass, and being tangled up in your own bat wings don't count as disasters.

As I sat there fuming, the bird insouciantly landed a few feet away with a more quizzical, "bok-bok bok-bok?''

"Fireballs, is it? Maybe I misjudged your status, Miss. Though clearly not your flying abilities."

It tilted its head on one side and regarded me with no apparent fear, and a high quotient of curiosity.

However, the new note of respect in its voice was somewhat mollifying. Grudgingly, as I disentangled myself, I muttered, "sorry, about the fire, difficult day, but still... kinda an overreaction, my bad."

I wasn't sure whether I was more embarrassed by having tried to kill the creature, or by failing miserably to do so. To distract from my blushes as much as anything I added, "Oh, and I'm Emmoreth, daughter of Naamah."

Seldom did I use my birth name, Emma was good enough for me. And I hadn't included Mom in my title in -- well -- years. But something about the bird's manner pushed me towards formality. Pride also made me want to assert that I wasn't just one of the unholy

hoi polloi

. I guess the raven had got under my skin.

"Cronk! Hrafn they used to call me, back when people spoke to me that is. Kind of ironic really, when you think about it."

Now I was the curious one. "But that just means 'raven' in the Old Language, surely."

"Caw! A scholar I see. It does indeed, which is why he chose this form, no doubt. Always a bit of a joker he was. Used to say that I reminded him of a writing desk. Bok-bok!"

My head was now spinning. "This form? Writing desk?" I was feeling a little blonde, like I was channeling Lily, for whom so much of life was often a mystery.

"Cronk! So you think all ravens can talk? Cronk!"

The arrogant tone was back again, though with what justification I couldn't guess. I felt kinda defensive. "Well, obviously not, duh! What were you?"

"Bok-bok! A wizard, that's what. Before I met one rather more powerful than me. Cronk!"

I'd had more than my fill of mages recently, but -- attitude aside -- the bird seemed harmless enough.

Crisply I declaimed, "Bregða!" And a startled, and even more nude, human male stood before me. He wasn't young, and -- aside from the lack of clothes -- the most striking thing about the guy was his long, gray hair, and longer, grayer beard.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, his knees gave way, and he crumpled in an ungainly heap. Limbs sticking out at weird angles.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I may not be world class at flying, but at least I can stand!"

The man regarded me with a mix of fear and bewilderment from the ground. I was kinda enjoying his change in demeanor. Schadenfreude was one of my favorite emotions.

"Third class demon, pah!" I knew I was being childish, but it was so much fun.

"Naamah?

The

Naamah? You're The Queen of Spies' daughter?"

I was positively preening myself now, this mode of address was much more to my taste. "The one and only,"

But his next words were less complimentary. "The one who got duped by that faux-fiend Cozbi, landed her mother in prison, and had her wings chopped off as a punishment?"

"Er... yeah... her too... I suppose." I guess that pride comes before a fall.

The man adopted a more conciliatory tone, though maybe his words didn't exactly match this. "Well, at least you have your wings back. And you can't exactly blame me, you don't

really

look like a first rank demon. They are normally taller... and darker... and a lot prettier... and much less freckled."

I couldn't work out whether Hrafn was being intentionally insulting, or if he was just not used to talking to other people.

Before I could offer a suitable riposte, he added. "Naamah, eh? I'll have to get your autograph." Sitting up, a little unsteadily, he patted his bare chest as if searching for a pen.

"I don't suppose you could conjure up some clothes for me, could you? Though maybe a bit more contemporary than..." He gestured to my workaday attire of jeans, sneakers, and a backless T-shirt (all the better to fly in).

Hrafn continued, "maybe a nice wizard's robe or something."

"Can't you...?" I asked rather tersely.

"Me? Without my staff? No, not really."

With an eye-roll, I barked, "Síðr serkr!" And Hrafn was clad in a gray robe.

"Thanks, that's better. But I'd really prefer white... and maybe a nice hat..."

I raised a eyebrow, and he subsided. "I mean, this is great, of course. Hrafn the Gray... it has a nice ring to it, right?"

Experimentally, he tried to stand, then rapidly decided that sitting was perfectly fine for now. "My legs, you see, I've been used to having raven legs for a long time."

This observation brought a self-conscious smile, it was actually sort of endearing. Maybe Hrafn wasn't so bad after all. Who knew how long he had been trapped in bird form, that shit would mess with your mind.

Again he gathered himself. "Miss Emmoreth..."

I interjected, trying to sound positive, "Actually, it's Emma, call me Emma."

"Alright... Emma... well, I'm in your debt for sure. What can I do to recompense you?"

I thought for a moment. "Well... I'd kinda like to get laid."

Hrafn's face broke into a wide, whiskered grin.

"No, Tiger, you're

so

not my type. Beards... ugh! But, I wonder, do you know any cute girls in these parts? Maybe blonde, petite ones with white wings, and a dirty mind?"

His grin turned crooked, becoming a semi-leer. "Oh, I remember now, you hooked up with an angel doppelgänger, what's her name again...? Lailah isn't it?"

"She uses Lily now," I corrected him. Why did he know so much about my life?

Not allowing me any further time to ponder this mystery, the wizard continued. "Sure. Well I can't think of anyone

exactly

like her round here. But there is Álfhildr's place. She always has a few pretty girls available, at a price, of course. Human, supernatural, and most things in between. I don't shock you, do I?"

Hrafn's assumption of prudery in a demon amused me no end. "Not so much, no. Is it far?"

"As the crow flies?... sorry, old habit. No, not far. We could walk. Or..." Hrafn mimed flapping.

It had been Lily who used to carry me not so long ago. Hrafn wasn't exactly light, but the muscle memory was coming back. I even managed a faster pace than before. My new acquaintance was sensible enough not to criticize my flying style mid-air.

I followed Hrafn's directions towards his suggested house of ill-repute. It would be nice to meet some fellow professionals, maybe we could share techniques, and then some bodily fluids, I was feeling dehydrated from all the flying.

-- -- --

Álfhildr's house had what might be described as old world charm. It was now early evening. As I landed, Hrafn collapsing once more in a heap, yellow lamps flickered behind a row of leaded glass windows in the white, single-story building. The roof was tiled in an idiosyncratic manner, with evident repairs in colors and shapes wholly unsympathetic to the most numerous, and so probably original, shingles. Rather crooked chimneys, billowing gray smoke, protruded from each end, with a further cluster in the center.

Getting a little frustrated with Mr. Jello Legs, I muttered, "Stinnr fótrs," and my friend was suddenly standing steadily.

"Thanks," he said, "shall we go in?"

The interior was dim. Flickering shadows played on the walls, and danced across the low ceiling. Lamps fitfully illuminated the faces of the patrons, making their features seem first angular, and then malleable, then angular again.

Directly opposite the entrance was a bar with an elderly woman standing proprietarily behind it. Dotted around the rest of the room were many tables, and a few booths, some of each populated by couples who seemed to be getting to know each other over foaming flagons of beer. I counted seven pairings and one trio. Most consisted of clothed males and females who were in various states of undress. But there was one woman talking to a wholly nude guy, and a male duo with one half seemingly dressed as a gladiator. The threesome featured an older man and two very similar looking blondes, briefly bringing a memory to my mind; but then it was gone again. Doors led off to either side, presumably to private rooms.

I turned to speak to Hrafn, but found I was alone. Indeed I was kinda fuzzy about

who

might have accompanied me, or indeed

whether

I had been accompanied by anyone at all. Oh well, no matter. The bar woman beckoned me and, as I approached her, she placed a pitcher heavily down on the counter and nodded at it.

When it came to human drinks, I was a Bourbon gal, but when in Rome; speaking of which, where exactly was I? The thought flitted out of my head as quickly as it had flitted in.

I sputtered and snorted. "How do you stop the bubbles going up your nose?"

The woman looked on with a mix of sympathy and mockery. Reaching down she picked up a blade and sliced off the worst of the beer's head. "Better?" she said, somewhat sardonically.